


A Boy and His Dog

by TheNarcolepticOne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarcolepticOne/pseuds/TheNarcolepticOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a place where the world rapidly changes, there is a spectator among the people. Peter wouldn't have known it, but he wasn't always alone. Yeah, it's been a little scary. But looking past the gunshots, sometimes life's comforts can be found with a clumsy dog's loyalty. Zombie!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Boy and His Dog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabulouspizzadelivery](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fabulouspizzadelivery).



> I do not own Hetalia nor the characters in this webcomic/anime. This rightfully belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya and his creative historical interpretations.
> 
> For fabulouspizzadelivery :D After a long week of stresses, this thing came out. I know Halloween is in the past but I thought I might as well. Hope you guys like it!
> 
> This is definitely based on a tumblr post, so if you happen to recognise it, don't be surprised!

The world wasn’t right on it’s head.

It was Hanatamago that noticed this. A dog that wasn’t nearly large enough to be considered responsible to remember where she placed her rubber bone. A dog that easily dismissed the small things when she saw the retreating form of her Master; bounding after him in a fury of excited yips, squeaks and barks.

A dog that believed that it was the easiest thing to do, just because it was simple.

It was a time where she believed she understood everything; how heavy it was going to rain from the breeze blowing under her ears, to the smells of fresh meat wafting into the living rooms to signify a large dinner that might leave scraps under the table. She thought she could predict when the sun would decide to sink under its blanket of clouds and when the moon would decide to enter the world, flashing with an army of twinkling stars.

But, like all other misguided creatures that had not yet grasped the concept of change, it dawned upon her that the gate of limitations she once thought was so obvious and real had disappeared into a forest. A black forest of unknown capabilities.

And she was scared.

She was not expecting the roughness of foreign grass to rip away the well-kept fur on her back and the sharp rocks to pierce her inexperienced, weak paws before she could make it back to the land called paradise.

A white ball of fluff stood against the looming woods before her.

The world wasn’t right on it’s head, she agreed.

Though, it hadn’t always been so crooked.

+   +   +

“Hana, come over here.”

The clicks of little claws were heard skittering towards him, and Hana had her tongue lolling down the entire way.

Master Peter had taken the dog food and poured it into the empty bowl, but her excitement turned to disappointment with a movement of her ears. It was only a month into the new lifestyle, and all the changes that needed to happen were implemented.

The food portions were first. They weren’t as large as they normally should be, and she really didn’t want to admit that her Master was trying to starve her. In response to her whines, Peter gave a soft look before petting her head to calm her down. He himself didn’t look like he had eaten much today either.

“Sorry, Hana. I don’t want it to run out too fast.”

She began to whimper again, hoping for some sympathy. The kitchen was bare and the pantry food had been moved two shelves higher. The memory of her previous excursion was well marked with the faint smell of alcohol. The bottles of ale had spilled violently all over the floor.

Peter already knew Hanatamago wasn’t enjoying this new change either. But there wasn’t much that could be done. Peter sighed, shaking out a little more food into the bowl. He had conceded to her begs.

Hana eagerly took the chance. Peter then retreated, leaving her alone briefly to wolf down the meal as he went to fetch some food for himself. As she finished, her gaze turned to the boarded-up window.

Master didn’t let her play outside anymore. He didn’t throw her favorite ball to play fetch. He didn’t speak much at all, and didn’t seem as affected anymore with the display of begging she performed everyday.

On other occasions, her attention shifted to the brothers around the household; the Kirklands, as they called themselves. They were previously known to everyone as the rambunctious group that shouldn’t be messed with back when they attended school. Their father had left them several years ago, only appearing during the holidays. Everyone hated him, really.

The boys lived alone with each other as a result. But now settled into the house and not leaving for school any longer, Hana kept her attention to the eldest of the group; the Alpha himself.

There were six humans in all, with the Alpha being a Scottish man named Allistor. There was another man named Dylan, the two twins Angus and Seamus, and then Arthur. Peter had been the most recent Kirkland, and often at the tail end of the jokes because of the large age gap. But Hana was often there to comfort him during those times.

The Alpha wasn’t particularly welcoming to be with, although, Hana could see his reasons of control, granted that the others also understood it too. It was he who would be the one to account all the members before bed, and the one to lock the pantry door at night.

Peter suddenly scooped the dog up into his arms and carried her into his bedroom where the windows were shut tight with roughly sanded planks. The room itself was littered in dust, with the small gaps from the outside streaming faint light onto the carpet. At the corner was Arthur, attempting to sleep but appearing unhappy at the sight of the two entering. He turned his head toward the wall.

“Shh,” Peter placed a finger to his lips as he set Hana down. “You have to be quiet. Allistor won’t let you stay if you make noise.”

There was a snort from the other side of the room. Arthur hadn’t moved.

“That dog is going to be the death of us. Allistor won’t let you keep her, you know. And I am not trying to tell you that just to piss you off.”

“Shut up, you jerk. Go to sleep already.”

After that, he brought the dog to the naked mattress on the floor (Peter’s bed), and snuggled with her under the thin covers.

+   +   +

Allistor insisted that help would come the longer they stayed. But no one really believed that anymore. He was also the one that was permitted to have a handgun with him at all times, which had been used more than once to threaten anyone who didn’t seem to want to follow.

Above the dog’s head were hisses and snarls. The brothers never shouted. Not like how they used to, anyway. They were afraid of being heard by the outsiders.

The house usually echoed on its own now, with simple footsteps and shuffles to fill the air. The two oldest were usually out of the house these days, and despite desperate attempts from Peter for Hana to walk outside, they refused.

She often found herself pacing around the entire home with Peter, as a way to satisfy her legs from the numbness of sitting down. That was what the rest of the remaining brothers did. Allistor wouldn’t let them (Hana included) watch the TV nor waste flashlight batteries for reading books in the dark. It became inventory checks after inventory checks; ration decreases and more blackouts. The sounds outside always grew, and no one questioned him during those moments during the day.

And if it wasn’t him, Dylan was the one making orders. His temper was the shortest out of them all.

As a way to cope, the twins often humored themselves when the house was empty of the eldest, often inviting Arthur and Peter to play cards with them when evenings rolled in.

Under the light of an oil lantern, laughter always ensued and their undead troubles seemed to drift away in those moments.

One night, when Angus was the one who seemed to have the upper hand, an instant interruption from Allistor and Dylan once more brought everyone to silence. They had returned early, looking grave.

“Barricade the door.”

The order was set. Arthur turned off the lantern light while the rest all contributed in finding furniture to block the door with. It was quick procedure.

All of them crowded around the one window facing the street, peeking between the gaps of the wooden boards nailed there. Hana had gotten a glance too, lifted by her Master Peter so that she could see.

There were at least a dozen other humans there, walking rather slow and paced. She could smell rotting flesh and her nose crinkled, unsure of what to make of it.

Without thinking, she barked, confused out of her wits. The humans outside were strange to her, and she didn’t enjoy it one bit.

Instantly, all eyes went to the dog. Seamus’ first instinct was to grab her snout, wanting to clamp her mouth shut and to prevent any more noises. The incensed dog struggled violently to get out of the grip. Peter retaliated verbally, attempting to berate his brother on being too harsh.

“ _You’re_ hurting _her!_ ” Peter hissed. “ _Let go!_ ”

Allistor’s eyes were trained outside, trying to see if any of them heard the barking. Dylan smacked the backside of Peter’s head.

“ _Your stupid dog almost gave us away!_ ”

Peter bit his lip, trying not to cry from the violent act as tears welled up in his eyes. Allistor didn’t seem to be interested in correcting the behavior.

Seamus immediately lifted the dog up and quickly ran to the bedroom. Peter followed just after.

As a compromise, it was decided that she would be moved to the basement. She was sent down without any supper and was forced to sleep under the footsteps of her Masters and a shrinking stomach. She couldn’t see in the darkness.

+   +   +

“What the _hell_ , Arthur?!”

The air absolutely _reeked_ of burned food. As a defensive response, Hana retreated underneath one of the couches to avoid the conflict. Allistor had a horrible habit to throw things, especially if he was angry.

Hana had already been thrown into the basement more than enough times.

Arthur spun around. He still had his apron on, but fear riddled his expression.

“I-I was just…I thought adding a l-little extra garlic powder— “

“I gave you one job. _Cook the food,_ ” He shoved Arthur away, looking to the food that he had attempted to cook. It was smothered in powder, making the room smell. “And you fuck this up. I told you to stay away from it. Now look what you’ve done. Wasted food for the night.”

He doused the flame under the cooker before glaring at the smaller man. Even Peter had taken time to hide into his room to avoid this fight. Dylan and the twins all appeared into the kitchen.

“What happened? What’s that smell?”

“Oh…my God…what happened to our…?”

Allistor suddenly lost himself. He lifted a fist and knocked Arthur flat on the floor. Instant hands went to restrain the older one as Arthur tried to stand up again.  
“…w-w…why,” Arthur demanded, squaring up as best he could as he put one hand on his cheek. “The _bloody hell_ did you do _that_?”

Allistor gave no other word to respond to him, other than a quick eye-flick to the food. He left afterward.

Arthur gave the two of them a look.

“You know what I was trying to do. And he’s got no _right_ to lose it in the way he did.”

Angus and Seamus only looked at each other, shrugging.

“Sure he does.”

“He’s the leader, isn’t he?”

Hana took the chance to retreat, leaving a horrified Arthur unsure how to respond to the obedient twins before him.

The event was soon forgotten. The main food supply was gone within the next month. Hanatamago was lucky she was able to scrap up from what was left in the rubbish bins. Unfortunately for Peter, he wasn’t doing so well. He began to grow sick from the lack of nutrients, which was almost a death sentence because of the approaching winter.

The colder it got, the more Allistor was no longer lenient on many mistakes.

Irritation began to build up for several weeks. With and an oncoming storm, the brothers grew less interested in unity.

“We need to leave,” Arthur was the one who insisted. “We can’t _stay_ here. Six months is only the beginning, and this household isn’t going to hold up by the time spring comes!”

Dylan looked lost, especially since he no longer felt the confidence to respond to a request that might make the most logical sense. The leadership wasn’t going to hold itself up at this rate, and Peter grew more ill as the days progressed.

That evening, the argument rose up again in front of the candle-lit dinner table that was once a warm and happy place. The twins seemed to be more interested sharing the can of peaches while Dylan and Arthur were having the feud.

Allistor took the chance, having been quiet since the time it had started. And as a response, he stood up with the loud screech of the chair behind him echoing around the room.  
“Get out,” he said, keeping his gaze on Arthur. “You want to survive out there on your own?” His eyes were exhausted, unhappy and resolute. “Fine by me.”

Arthur grasped the chance, storming out of the room only seconds afterward. Dylan still wanted to get the last word.

“You’ll come back! Just you wait!”

Hana, who had been comfortably laying on the carpeted floor just outside the kitchen, perked up at the sight of Arthur’s form leaving the dining room.

The Brit headed to the bedroom, taking up a blanket and packing up the rest of his belongings surrounding his area around the floor into a satchel.

Hana licked Peter’s face, waking him. It was a normal routine.

“…Arth…?”

Arthur briefly stopped, turning his head to the weak sound of his brother on the worn-out mattress pad. He exhaled a little loudly before making his way over, unsure of how to respond.

“…how are you feeling?”

“…not so good. Why aren’t…you eating dinner?”

Arthur frowned, feeling Peter’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“I’m leaving.”

Peter stirred then, his exhausted eyes shifting from tired to alarmed. He sat up, meeting his gaze with Arthur’s.

“What…?”

Arthur sighed again. He took a moment to stand and shoo Hanatamago away from his satchel.

“I’m leaving. I can’t stand it here. Allistor’s been more of an ass—“ he rephrased. “—a…control freak. Won’t let us do what we want. You know.”

Peter gave a nod.  
“…can I come?”

The phrase itself made Arthur freeze in his place.

“You can’t. You’re ill.”

“B-But I don’t want to stay here. A-Allistor will probably k-kick me out at one point anyway. I-If not Dylan…”

“No, Peter. I can’t let you do that. He’s a control freak, but he wouldn’t be _that_ heartless.”

“N-No…but…he punched you. A-And he’s never done that before…”

Arthur picked up his satchel, making sure to do a once-over.

Peter tried his best to fight the drowsiness and stand.

“Y-You don’t have a gun!” he pointed out, thinking quick to get his attention. “Y-You can’t defend yourself!”

Arthur shook his head. “We only have one gun in this house. And Allistor is the only one who can use it. I can make do with whatever I find.”

“C-Check under his pillow.” said Peter. Arthur rose an eyebrow at him, glancing at Allistor’s bed. He lifted the pillow, revealing a loaded gun right under it. Peter gave a lopsided grin.  
“…see? You need m-me.”

“I don’t need a sick kid dictating my decisions,” he grumbled back, snatching the pistol and stuffing it in his backpack before putting the pillow back in place. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to follow me anyway. I don’t actually have a plan. But don’t tell Allistor nor Dylan.”

Hana suddenly moved, causing both boys to draw their attention to her. She padded away right to a particular spot on the floor, digging uselessly into the carpet. Peter himself was fascinated at this, going over to help try and remove the (clearly loose) carpet mat and removing the wood of the floorboard.

Arthur felt his heart lift.

Food. Ten cans of it. Both of them immediately scooped it up for themselves.

“…well then.” Arthur pet Hana, smiling. “Perhaps I might reconsider. But only if you’re well enough to last until we find new shelter.”

Peter lit up, easily scrambling to his bed to retrieve his remaining possessions: a blanket, a flashlight, and a fluffy winter jacket. Arthur nodded, retrieving his own coat.

They locked the front bedroom door shut before opening the window to escape. The last thing they heard that afternoon was the angry shouts of a doomed leader destined to die alongside his brothers.

**Author's Note:**

> _Posted November 18, 2015_


End file.
